


By Virtue of Its Crust

by Allekha



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Community: falloutkinkmeme, Crack, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: She will get that pie out of the Port-a-Diner if it's the last thing she does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note: For some reason I thought there was a Port-a-Diner at the Galleria; after I wrote this, I went to check, but there isn't one. Oops. But I liked the setting, so let's just imagine that there's one in front of Maddens or something ^^;
> 
> Originally posted at the Fallout Kink meme [here](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=16280531#t16280531) and now edited slightly. Full prompt in the end notes.

**1**

"I'm kind of tired, why don't you go explore while I sit down for a while?" Anne suggested. Curie agreed with her usual cheer and strode off to go poke around the General Atomics Galleria by herself. Anne shook her head with a smile as she watched her leave, then collapsed onto the nearest bench. It had been a while since she last visited the Galleria – that first time, she had been with Codsworth, she was newly released from the vault, and the robots had been rather more homicidal. And it had been night. Now, with the robots peaceful and in the daylight, it was almost pleasant – and not just for the nostalgia – and as safe as a place could get out here.

She had just shucked her helmet and stretched her neck out when she happened to spot a brightly-painted machine nearby. She smiled again as she saw that it was a Port-a-Diner. They'd been some weird trend after the Sino-American War, a novelty more than anything. Kids liked them well enough, but any adult would have rather bought actual food from an actual diner.

Granted, given what her diet was like nowadays, she would have killed for one of those mediocre cheese sandwiches that the machines tended to dispense. But it was clear even from over here that the food in the machine was rotten, probably long since gone bad – wait.

There, at the very top, still brightly-colored – was that a piece of _pie_?

Anne couldn't resist the idea. She stood up and walked over, then crouched and peered through the scratched-up glass. Sure enough, it was a slice of pie, which appeared to be perfectly fine. It wasn't plastic, was it? No, that was real texture. Thank _god_ for preservatives. Anne hit the button on the side and watched eagerly as the claw descended, grasped the plate – and then slipped off of it like a rigged claw game.

**2**

Okay, maybe the machinery was just a bit broken. It'd been two hundred years and some change, and there was no way these things were meant to last that long, especially without maintenance. Surely if she tried it again, it would work.

She hit the button. The claw descended, got a better grasp this time, and then failed to hold on to the plate as it started to lift.

Dammit. One more time. Just one more, and then she would go back to resting and enjoying the sunshine.

**3**

It got so close this time – started to lift up the plate – but then one section of the claw glitched, or something, and the plate tipped back on to the platform and stayed stubbornly out of her reach.

Okay. Okay. So the machine was broken. So what? It wasn't like she needed pie to survive. She should just go teach Curie how to bowl. But still, she couldn't tear her eyes off of the slice. It was just – it had been _so_ long since she had eaten pie, and this looked like her favorite flavor. Dammit.

She reached for the button again.

**10**

Anne asked the nearby robots about fixing the Port-a-Diner or unlocking it somehow when it continued to fail to work, but none of them seemed to understand what she was talking about. Why couldn't all of them be like Codsworth, or like Curie had been – able to understand things beyond their jobs?

Well, she might as well do something to pass the time while she kept trying – she had to get lucky at some point. Anne hit the button again and leaned against the machine, her backpack set a couple of feet away. Her laser rifle needed some work, and her pack had become a jumbled mess. She needed to sort it out before they returned to Diamond City or swung by the Drumlin Diner and tried to sell anything.

And when she finally got that pie, she could take a break to enjoy it. With Curie? Yeah, Curie needed to experience a good pie.

**54**

Her laser rifle was now in the best shape it had ever been, and Anne still did not have pie.

If the machine had simply been broken, completely unable to grasp a plate any more, maybe she would have given up on it. But it kept _almost_ working, so close that her mouth went into overdrive producing saliva. She had to stop looking at it. Really, she should stop this. It was silly. But hey, she still had this backpack to organize... and Curie was still off doing something.

Where _was_ Curie, anyway? This place wasn't that big. Maybe she had gotten the robots in the bowling alley to explain the game to her? Or was investigating the composition of the coffee? Because whatever that was, it was definitely not coffee.

**108**

Anne's backpack was sorted and ready for selling off excess junk later. She did not have pie. Curie was still gone. Had she wandered off to the lake? Or was this place actually that interesting?

This was getting even more ridiculous. Anne pulled her trusty crowbar out of her backpack and gave it a thoughtful look. She hadn't used it as a weapon much, just on the odd occasion when she was prying open a boarded-up building and a feral ghoul surprised her. But it could work, couldn't it?

She pulled on some sunglasses and wrapped a scarf around her face – safety first – before gripping the crowbar with both hands and bringing it down on the Port-a-Diner's glass as hard as she could. Then she stumbled as the glass failed to crack under the blow and instead bounced the crowbar to the side. She tried again, and again, and then a couple of more times just to be really sure, before giving it up. What the hell did they make this thing out of?

**122**

Lasers didn't work either. Or even a shot from her new plasma rifle. Or regular old bullets. Anne wished she had something more powerful on her – a missile launcher, for example – but alas, she had left such things back in Sanctuary.

**125**

Grenades of all kinds also failed to get through the glass. Anne frowned and dug deeper into her backpack.

**143**

She had surrounded the Port-a-Diner with those mines she kept picking up but never used. She even duct-taped a few of the heavier ones directly to the glass. At this point, she wasn't even worried about destroying the pie. If this worked, surely the glass would only be damaged enough for her to crack it open further and rescue the slice.

Anne moved all her things and retreated to the other side of the galleria. Then, holding her breath, she peered through the sniper lens on her laser rifle and let off a single shot aimed for one of the mines.

 **Boom**.

A huge fireball erupted, sending debris flying. Several of the nearby robots exclaimed and made mentions of calling emergency services or turning on the fire suppressant systems, but then they went merrily on their ways. Their programming must be off, she mused, as she lowered her rifle and picked her way over to the Port-a-Diner.

The dust on the ground had turned into a smear of black carbon, and the paint was scratched up a bit, but the goddamn thing was still intact. The glass didn't have the slightest crack! To test it, she tried the crowbar again, but that still yielded no result.

What the _hell_ had they made this thing out of?!

Anne dropped her crowbar and sat down heavily. She hit the button and watched as the machine once again failed to deliver her pie.

"Hello?" She raised her head at Curie's voice and watched her hurry over. "Is everything alright? I heard an explosion!"

"It's nothing, Curie. Are you done here? If you still have some exploring to do, I can just wait and eat lunch." At Curie's hesitant look, Anne smiled at her. "Seriously, it's fine. I'm happy hanging around here, and I've been looking forward to trying out that new game that we picked up yesterday. Take your time."

**144**

Curie went on her way again, back to her normal bouncy and cheerful self. Anne hit the button and settled in for a long wait. Looked like she was going to do this the hard way.

**238**

She had read through the new magazines she had picked up but not actually looked at, and was now contemplating the pie in-between hitting the button. She couldn't keep her mind off of how good it would be, how delicious the notes of vanilla and fruit, how perfect the crust. Anne had always eaten her dessert slowly, but this would be one to pick apart a bit at a time, not something to wolf down. After all, it might be the last pie she would ever eat.

Damn, that was a depressing thought. She shook her head and rooted around for her new game.

**352**

Anne had set a bunch of new hi-scores and still did not have her pie. It was taunting her. No, wait, it wasn't. That was only her imagination. It was just a slice of pie, after all.

This was starting to get to her. But she wanted that pie more than anything. Finished with squinting at her Pip-Boy, Anne searched through the pocket of her backpack that held her drugs. She tried not to use them too often, not after seeing what they had done to some people out here in the Wasteland, but there were always emergencies. At the bottom was a rare bottle of Day Tripper.

She'd never tried it before. Even before the war, it was expensive, and typically hard to get a hold of – she remembered reading editorials in the paper about how it was corrupting minds and leading people astray from reality. Never mind that sometimes reality sucked. Like right now, in fact. Anyway, she'd also heard rumors that it would make good things happen. Once, she might have scoffed at the notion, but she now lived in a nuclear wasteland where giant lizards were a legitimate terror, zombies a nuisance, and irradiated ghouls a fact of life.

There was faded, worn writing on the back of the bottle. She ignored it and downed all the pills.

**365**

She could definitely feel the Day Tripper kicking in now. Anne grinned as she hit the button, admiring the pie's colors. They were so bright! Luminescent, even. And the sky! Clouds were amazing. Sunlight was amazing. Blue was amazing.

She started to giggle to herself. It turned into full out laughter as the machine reset, allowing her to hit the button again, though it took a couple of tries to get her hand to land right.

**498**

Pie. Pie. Pie. Pie! Pie. It would soon be hers. Pie. Delicious, delicious pie.

Anne pouted as the plate once again fell from the grip of the claw – but there was always the next try! The next one would work _for sure_. Grinning, she hit the button again and watched eagerly.

**525**

"Is something wrong?"

Anne looked up from where she was watching the claw fail to deliver her pie again (but next time! next time it would work!). "Heeeeeeya Curiiiiiiie!"

Curie paused. "Are you alright? You are speaking strangely."

Anne laughed. What a weird question! "I'm fine, Curie! I'm just waiting for my pie."

"Your... pie?"

"You'll see, it'll give it to me next time!"

**532**

"The machine, it is broken."

"No, it's not."

"But it is not able to pick up the plate. Perhaps if we ask an employee–"

"Tried it tried it tried it. They're broken, Curie. Not like you. And not like this! You'll see. I swear, you'll see."

**534**

Curie put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Come, let us go to the bakery and you can tell me about the many sweets they have."

"No!" Anne slammed her hand into the side of the Port-a-Diner, hard enough to rattle it. Curie started and jumped backward, and then made confused noises as Anne abruptly began to cry. "I just – I just wanted a piece of goddamn pie!" she wailed through the tears. "Something that I used to make all the time before the war! It was one of my favorite things ever ever ever and this is the last time I'll get to eat it!"

Failure. Anne smacked the button with her palm and broke down further.

**537**

Curie was saying something about emotional distress and possible causes of something. Anne could no longer concentrate on her words. All that mattered was the pie. If she did not obtain it, she would... she would... oh, god. That was a terrible thought. All that lay that way was void and despair.

No, no, she had to get it, she _had_ to.

**542**

The claw descended, its metal arms glinting in the light of the setting sun. Those arms spread, wide enough to grip the edges of plate below it, and then the tension tightened, making that grip firm and sure. Slowly, so as not to drop its precious cargo, the claw lifted into the air, then sideways along its tracks, until it could deliver the plate to its new resting place.

Anne stared at the perfect slice of pie before her and knew what rapture meant.

Curie had stopped talking to take in the moment with her. Anne couldn't hold it in; she leapt to her feet and hugged Curie tightly, tears of joy now slipping down her cheeks. The sudden standing made her dizzy, though, so she pulled Curie down with her as she sat again, dragging her into her lap. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It appears to be very well preserved. Perhaps I could run an experiment to–"

"No! No experiments. Curie." Anne looked her square in the eye. "You are going to eat this pie with me, and you are going to experience what true deliciousness is."

Sitting on the ground was no place to properly savor it, though – and they needed forks, they wouldn't desecrate this wondrous thing by consuming it with bare hands, oh, no. Anne carefully picked up the plate with one hand and used the other to tug Curie with her to the restaurant.

"We're just here to eat this, nevermind us, oh but could we have some water? Thanks." She beamed at the robots, who seemed bemused but accepted this strange directive from the Overseer.

Their table was already set with clean cutlery, and they were left alone with the slice of pie once their water had been poured. Anne let Curie have the honor of dividing the slice exactly in half, and then they started to dig in.

Lemon-flavored whipped cream with hints of vanilla, melting on her tongue. Cherry topping, with that beautiful artificial flavor. And lemon cream for the filling on a thin crust, still soft and smooth after all these years.

Anne ate her half, then scraped every last smear and crumb from the plate, and did her damnedest to get it all off her fork and into her mouth. She didn't go for the water right away, but let the flavor linger in her mouth.

"Well?" she finally asked.

"I do not believe I have ever experienced something like this before," Curie said, with a tone of wonder to her voice. "Would you like to hear my observations?"

"You know I always do. Besides, I've never watched someone eat pie for the first time in their life before."

As Curie launched into what she had to say, Anne smiled at her and leaned her cheek on her hand. She could still taste the traces of the pie. Somewhere in the back of her mind there was a reminder that she could _never eat pie again_ , but then it went away and there was just her, Curie, and the empty plate.

**Author's Note:**

> "You know the one. That bloody delicious looking pie sent from heaven, trapped in a nuke-proof Port-A-Diner shell.  
> The SS wants that cake. They want it bad. Laying out mines around it and then nuking the whole goddamn thing with a mini-nuke didn't so much as scratch the surface so now they have no other choice but to do it the hard way, pressing the same button over and over again.  
> So now when I played I wore all the +Luck equipment I had and popped some Daytripper for good measure and with a Luck of 13 I can now proudly call two (2!) Perfectly Preserved Pies my own. It wasn't pretty. I'm pretty sure I cried at some point.  
> And that's how LI of your choice finds the SS. Sobbing and high on drugs giggling madly to themselves as they sit in front of that Port-A-Diner, pressing the button and maybe muttering "Pie" under their breath.  
> LI's reaction is up to anon. Do they doubt the SS' sanity? Do they jump on the pie-train and get just as obsessed? Do they stage an intervention?
> 
> +They do get the pie in the end and share it with their LI  
> Up to you whether it tastes good enough to be worth it all"


End file.
